Winter
Ravenpaw never had a mate, never had kits. He lived out his life in the barn with Barely. ...or so they say. Winter Ravenpaw yawned. Fluffy white flakes drifted slowly through one of the thinner, patchy spots in the roof. A small pile had already accumulated on the floor of the barn, but neither Barley nor Ravenpaw was particularly perturbed. Life was already peaceful enough - after all, the snow wasn't doing any harm, was it? Best to let things be, that was the way to stay out of trouble, Ravenpaw had learned. Leave nature be, nature will leave you be. And then everyone's happy - and happiness is the best thing to strive for, right? "Fancy a stroll outside?" Barley called. Ravenpaw waved his head, blinking vestiges of a well-earned nap from his eyes. He and Barley had spent the morning gathering up all of the mice in the barn and storing them in one of the corners. They had then taken turns gorging themselves on prey, seeing who could take the most before he got sick. Ravenpaw had won, but he was currently sleeping off the stomachache. A sick feeling rising in his stomach, Ravenpaw shook his head weakly. "Suit yourself!" Barley replied, shrugging his broad shoulders and padding into the chilly afternoon air. His pawsteps were buried by a flurry of more snow, and Ravenpaw purred contentedly. Back home in the forest, cats would be atonished to see him eating so well - and wasting prey without so much as a care in the world. Fresh-kill was the opposite of plentiful in a season like this, so Clan cats had to store up all they could if they wanted to make it through the leaf-bare and still be somewhat healthy. Many kits had died from their mothers' lack of nourishment, and the current season was always a tough one. But Barley and Ravenpaw didn't have quite the same issue, with the mice reproduction rate soaring. Ravenpaw sighed. He was growing bored; Barley had woken him up from his drowsy, half-nap, and now he'd left. There was nothing for Ravenpaw to do, no one to talk to. If only the mice could talk, but they were dead. Ravenpaw snorted at the thought. "Oh, all right," Ravenpaw groaned, heaving himself to his feet. He still felt a bit bloated, but a nice walk in the cold might give him a good exercise. Stomach brushing the ground a bit uncomfortably, Ravenpaw bounded down from the hay loft and scampered across the length of the barn, enjoying the rush of air around his whiskers. He could already feel the cold seeping into the barn, kept warm by its proximity to a Twoleg den. Ravenpaw didn't quite mind the chill that much, Clan life had toughened him up a little ''bit. "Barley! Where are you?" Ravenpaw yowled into the rapidly-falling twilight. The temperature was sinking as darkness enveloped the fields. The barn had given him a false sense of comfort. While he imagined gently-falling snow and sturdy white slopes, he was faced with a harsh reality: A strong gale was constantly re-shaping the landscape, causing dunes of white snow to coalesce around him, while the heavy gray clouds blocking the azure sky where churning out masses of white flakes. What Ravenpaw had assumed to be a light sprinkle, a steady fall, was really a roiling, massive, churning blizzard of a storm. The temperature, cool enough for snow, was truly quite frigid, and Ravenpaw felt his bones beginning to tremble. He was no spring chicken, but he wasn't quite elder age yet. He'd be a senior warrior, perhaps, if he had remained in the Clans. If he had remained in the Clans, however, he would probably be dead. "Barley! Barley," Ravenpaw yowled. "Barley, where are you?" All traces of his scent had gone, covered in a blanket of white. Barley's footsteps had been swallowed up whole, he had vanished into the evening. He was simply...gone. "Help!" Ravenpaw spun on his heel, slipping on an icy patch and nearly tumbling straight into a small hill of snow. He was sure he had heard something, and yet, with the howling wind, no sound was distinguishable. He had barely heard himself calling Barley's name...but he was positive there had been a cry...a shout for help so faint...there was definitely someone there, but-- "Help! Someone, please, help!" There it was again. Ravenpaw struggled to pick up a scent, to find out where the plea had come from. It sounded like a she-cat, there was a slight lilt to it that he could determine from this distance. Probably the age of a new warrior, a few moons younger than Ravenpaw himself. A yowl of pain accompanied the cry this time. "Please! ''Help!" "I'm coming!" Ravenpaw shouted in reply, his words spiraling away into the twilight. The ferocity of the storm picked up around him, nearly sending him toppling into a fluffy white drift. His claws skidded on a concealed patch of ice, but he was determined to find that cat. She was near, surely, otherwise he wouldn't have heard her, and she was in serious trouble. Somewhere, she was hurt. There. She would have been small originally, but she had clearly come a long way without much of a supply of prey. Her sooty-gray fur clung to her bones, and Ravenpaw could see each of her ribs. Frowning, he waded through the deep snow towards her. She leaned gratefully against his shoulder as they began to plod back towards the barn - rather, where Ravenpaw assumed the barn to be. With the howl of the blizzard ringing in their ears and snow obscuring their vision, it was difficult to discern even the shape of a snow hillock in front of them. "We should--" "There!" the she-cat cried, interrupting him. "I see something." Ravenpaw squinted, but as they came closer, he was sure she was right. A big shape was looming in the distance, definitely big enough to be the barn. Ravenpaw could already taste the mice, he could hear himself recounting his harrowing adventure to Barley-- "Ouch!" "Are you all right? Oh, gosh, I'm sorry! I thought it was a barn or something, I've seen one around here, and I couldn't tell with all of the snow. Oh, dear, I hope you're all right! I didn't mean to, honest, I really thought it was a barn, please forgive me! I'm really, really, sorry, I don't even know what your name is, but I'm sure you're a good cat, and oh! I feel so bad now, is there anything I can do to help? I'm so sorry, really, I am, I didn't mean to, is your face all right? That sounded mean, what I meant was...are you...are you all right?" The she-cat took a breath, preparing to go on, but Ravenpaw slapped his tail over her mouth. His face was still stinging. What the she-cat had thought to be the barn was, in fact, one of the hay-monster things. There was fresh grass beneath it, clearly the massive, hulking monster had kept snow off the ground beneath it. There was just enough room for two cats to fit... A few moments later, both were nestled beneath the monster. The she-cat's skinny body didn't take up much room, but she must have been sick with the amount of heat her body provided. Her breathing was labored throughout the night, and though Ravenpaw's eyes were fighting to droop closed and buoy him off to sleep, he felt some sort of obligation to protect the she-cat sleeping at his side. Ravenpaw waited out the entire storm, crouched beneath the monster. He watched as the winds died down and the sun came out, melting the supposedly massive drifts of snow into a light blanket swathing the ground, creating an ice-capped landscape. When the she-cat finally woke up, Ravenpaw pretended to have enjoyed a refreshing night's sleep as well, though truth be told, he wanted to curl right back up and sleep for moons. The barn was now clearly visible in the distance, and they weren't too far at all. "We should be back to the barn by sunrise," Ravenpaw told the she-cat, and she smiled. As they padded through the snowy fields, they chatted idly. Ravenpaw told her about the problem with the rogues, and she reacted appropriately throughout the entire story - gasping when Ravenpaw paused, giggling and ooh''ing when he described the kits. She was able to walk by herself now, but was still complaining of the chill. Ravenpaw promised a feast of mice - and perhaps a shrew if they were lucky - when they returned to the barn, and she eagerly picked up the pace. Her name was Winter, she told him, and she'd been born in the wild just as Ravenpaw had. She had come from a good family, living with her parents' kin. Growing up surrounded by other cats, she'd loved her life. Such peace, however, wasn't to last forever, and Twolegs soon came and took her mother, grandmother, and older brother and sister. Winter had never seen them again, but she dreamed about them sometimes, convinced they were sending her the dreams and trying to communicate with her. She was a bit fiesty, Ravenpaw learned, but she had a good heart. "Here we are," Ravenpaw said cheerfully upon arrival at the barn. Winter stood in awe for a moment, then scuttled into the barn. Ravenpaw followed, his whiskers twitching in amusement. When he entered the barn, feeling a rush of warm air, he saw Winter was already curled up with a large mouse in front of her. Without waiting for permission, she had tucked in, and looked up sheepishly when her new-found friend came in. "Sorry," she said through a mouthful, crumbs spewing from he rmouth. "Ravenpaw! There you are!" Ravenpaw turned, spying his black-and-white friend. "I'd been looking for you," Ravenpaw replied, padding over. "I went out after you, to...y'know..work off some of the weight, but I couldn't find you. I ended up hearing Winter--" he gestured to the gray she-cat, still gorging herself on mice "--calling for help, and I brought her back here. She's really sweet, I think you'd like her." Barley looked past his friend, eyes narrowed. "What'd you say her name was?" "Winter," Ravenpaw replied promptly. "And--Barley, I know we promised never to take a mate, and I did just meet her, but you know, I think she might be the...the one." Barley flicked his tail dismissively. "Go ahead. We could use some kits, I'm already missing Snowflake and Icicle, however much of a disturbance their parents caused. The little scraps were sort of...y'know...cute," Barley admitted grudgingly. Ravenpaw purred. ○ "They're wonderful," Ravenpaw purred, giving Winter a lick on the ear. "I couldn't ask for kits more perfect than ours. Look, that one looks exactly like you! And this one," he gestured with his tail to a mottled gray cat struggling to get in between its siblings, "looks like my elder sister, Brindleface. They have the same sort of markings, you know? Oh, I wonder what eyes they'll have! But that's not important, they've got to have names, don't they, darling? What do you think for this one?" "What about Owl?" Winter suggested. "His pelt is the color of an owlet's." "That's perfect," Ravenpaw mewed. "And what about Soot for the mottled one? His stripes are the color of soot." The mottled gray tom in question looked up at his parents, as though confirming that he liked the name. Winter gave him a lick on the head, smiling, and the tiny kit returned to suckling. Winter gestured to the last kit, a golden she-cat. "In my family, we knew a couple Twoleg terms - for seasons, you see. That's what I'm named after, Winter. Your leaf-bare, if I'm not mistaken. The warmest season, Greenleaf, I think you said, Twolegs call 'Summer'. This kit is the color of sunlight in summer, so why not give her the name?" Winter said, giving the she-cat a lick on the forehead. Ravenpaw nodded, beaming. "So it's settled. Welcome to the world, my kits, Owl, Soot, and Summer." As Winter slept off her exhaustion, Ravenpaw turned to Barley, who was gazing somewhat wistfully at the kits, as if wishing for some of his own. Ravenpaw's smile faltered at the sadness in his friend's eyes. Barley gave a soft sigh and turned away, but not before Ravenpaw caught him. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I know we promised, but...but I love her." Barley turned around. His expression was unreadable, but he spoke softly as he replied, "I know, Ravenpaw. I did too. There's something I never told you - that morning, when you brought her back. She was a part of BloodClan, you see, a recruit before I joined. She tried to leave while I was there, and we were told she'd been killed. We never saw the body, but you didn't question that sort of thing in BloodClan, you know? I only knew her for a short while, but she was such a lovely cat..." Ravenpaw shuffled his feet. "I'm sorry for taking her away from you." "Don't worry about it," Barley said, tone lightening considerably. "I think the old couple a ways away is moving away, and I saw some young Twolegs coming in with quite a few cats our age. Who knows, maybe I'll find a mate there. After all, aren't all promises meant to be broken?" '''The End'